


Kyuubi Style: Nine-Tailed Vibration

by Flossie



Series: Canon Compliant HashiMadaMito [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Hashirama is trans, Married Couple, Married Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 12:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flossie/pseuds/Flossie
Summary: It was a lie, of course it was a lie. Hashirama wasn’t out on political business, he was out sleeping with Madara, or Koharu, or anyone else that caught his eye. But maybe it was exactly the lie Mito needed to hear right now, because when she heard that beautiful low voice roll off his beautiful soft lips in the form of the words “my princess,” she couldn’t help but melt.*this was written to kinda come after chapter 3 of "did you know it's possible to fall in love" but honestly it doesn't have to... its just a porn yo





	Kyuubi Style: Nine-Tailed Vibration

Mito stalked around her bedchamber, feet padding softly on the tatami mats. Hashirama sat on the bed wearing his reading glasses and doing a crossword puzzle.

“HASHIRAMA I SWEAR I’M GOING TO KILL SOMETHING,” Mito cursed, pacing faster. Her shoulders were tense and hunched, every muscle in her body spelled agitation and anger.

Hashirama looked up, over his glasses. She was sexy like this. She was always sexy. But when she got angry, some of that feral Uzumaki power, that power that even being raised as a princess couldn’t beat out of her, started to show. And today she was _pissed_.

“I am going to grab something innocent and I am going to wring its neck. I am going to stomp on something, I am going to squash something, I am going to…”

“Honey.” Hashirama finally interjected, taking off his glasses and folding them, placing them neatly atop his crossword on the bedside table. “You’re not going to kill anything.”

“But—Hashi—Madara— _YOU_ — what you’re doing— what the fuck did you mean by that??” Her shoulders trembled and tears threatened to breach her eyes.

“Mito, my love,” Hashirama tried again. His deep, calming voice had the consistency and sweetness of cold maple syrup.

Mito stopped pacing. She tried to hold back the tears. She tried to unclench the muscles in her back, but it didn’t work. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t need to be alone right now, and she didn’t have to either.

“Come on, beautiful, let me give you a hug.” It was such a simple request, so guileless, so pure. Hashirama, Mito figured, must be the perfect man. He was tall and handsome and smooth, with hair that moved like elegant willow leaves and an aura that made everything around him grow. It was almost impossible to be unhappy in his arms. Almost.

Mito made a grouchy noise of acknowledgement and climbed into bed, crawling up to where her husband sat in his rough hemp jinbei set. She knelt next to him and let him take out the sharp pins she wore in her hair, let him lift off her crown and place it on its stand, let him unfurl her buns so her long red hair cascaded down her body, even longer than she was, splaying out on the white bedspread. She followed his movements with her eyes as he wordlessly unwrapped her obi, folding it perfectly and placing on the floor beside the futon. It was her turn to speak next, but he wasn’t going to rush her. The calm Madara had taught him had stuck. But it felt distasteful to think about Madara now, the same Madara whose embarrassing competitive antics at dinner had his wife this absolutely beside herself with jealous anger.

Hashirama gently removed Mito’s kimono from her shoulders, helping her out of it and then out of her undergarments, folding each piece neatly and piling them over the obi. Last he produced her white silk nightgown, which he slipped over her head as she stared into space. She looked absolutely strung-out, her eyes were red from not blinking and had bags almost as bad as… Madara’s (him again). Still waiting for her to speak, Hashirama touched her face. He held it, and looked into her dark eyes. She looked back, heavy-lidded. Just the touch from his life-giving hands sparked something inside of her, though, and she took the first breath in what felt like hours.

“I’m sorry, Hashirama.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m just… worried.“

“Don’t worry about _him_.” Not much changed in his voice, but you could tell what he said was final. It was a skill he had honed since becoming clan leader at the green age of 12. Bossing around grownups is not an easy task, and the lessons learned back then had stuck with him ever since.

Hashi stroked her cheek with his rough thumb. “Mito, honey, tonight I want you to worry about _me_.”

“Worry about you?” Mito’s concentrated energy fell from her forehead to the pit of her stomach, tingling outwards to her chest and pelvis. “Honey, have you not been getting enough… love?”

Hashirama wrapped his strong, tanned hands around Mito’s pale arms. He scootched down in the bed so he was lying on his back, and he pulled Mito on top of him. “I’m out of town on political business so much, I hardly ever see my princess anymore,” he purred, brushing Mito’s long hair out of his face as she looked down at him. “Mito-hime.”

It was a lie, of course it was a lie. Hashirama wasn’t out on political business, he was out sleeping with Madara, or Koharu, or anyone else that caught his eye. But maybe it was exactly the lie Mito needed to hear right now, because when she heard that beautiful low voice roll off his beautiful soft lips in the form of the words “my princess,” she couldn’t help but melt. “But Hashirama, he’s just so—“ she protested emptily, cut off by Hashirama’s pointer finger touching her lips, as dry and calloused as it always was. Instinctively, she met the finger with her tongue, pulling it into her mouth. She didn’t take it very far, her front teeth resting on his square fingernail, her tongue poking at the underside. She looked down at him, at his honey-brown eyes and the soft, dark hair framing his face. She sucked on his finger, letting him further into her mouth, and thought about the way he smelled of musk and sandalwood. Of the outdoors and the rich furniture of the Hokage office. She moved her hips so she could straddle Hashirama more comfortably, feeling his firm muscles between her thighs. She leaned down and met his lips with hers, his finger still obediently between them. She didn’t close her eyes as she kissed him, and neither did he.

Licking Mito’s lips once to push them off of him, Hashi said one last Thing. “I am going to make you forget all about my stupid mistake, alright, Mito-hime? And in the morning, it will be a new day, and we will still be _happily_ married.” He held Mito’s waist and rolled over so he was on top of her, his muscular chest hard and bumpy against her soft fleshiness. His body was heavy, but comforting. She wrapped her arms loosely around his torso and moaned a bit when he bent his head to kiss her neck. and started kissing her lips and cheeks and neck. She felt the conflicting sensations of his rough beard and his soft lips and, as always, was entranced by it. She ran her fingers up and down his spine, pushing up his hemp top. She could feel the divots in his skin where he was marked by scars, most from that bastard Madara. He used the opportunity to shake off his shirt and then continue kissing down Mito’s torso, the warm kisses immediate even through her nightgown. He kissed her heavy breasts and her small stomach, then lifted up the gown and kissed the fading stretch marks and tattoos marking her hips. Traced her inner thighs with a big thumb, finally making his way to the curly red hair covering her coochie. Her whole body felt warm and electric. She squirmed beneath her husband, desperate for his loving touch. “Hashi,” she whispered longingly. “Hashi-chan, give it to me.”

Hashirama smiled into her bush, nosing at her meaty lips to gain access to her clit. Then gliding his head up so his tongue caught in her folds before she closed on him again. She caught her breath and looked down at him, in the distance beyond the white expanse of her nightgown. His gentle eyes were closed and his head bobbed slightly with his rhythmic licking. She yelped when he changed it up, his rough finger gliding over her wet clit while he began to lick and suck down her lips, her entrance, her asshole… and then dragged his tongue in one long stroke back to front. She gasped weakly every time he repeated that motion until she just couldn’t take it anymore. “H-Hashi!” she moaned, and he looked up, understanding exactly what she meant. He grew a slim wooden dildo from the palm of one hand while he kept rubbing her with the other one. She bit her lip and nodded her head with a weak “mm-hm!!” and then closed her eyes as he pushed it into her. It was smooth and cold and perfect. She clenched around it, felt the bulbous head moving up and down inside her. Felt his thumb over her clit. Felt that heat start radiating out from her clit, through her whole body, felt the goosebumps forming on her chest, felt her nipples poking violently through her nightgown. None of this went unnoticed by her loving husband, who leaned over her without breaking pace and nudged her nightgown down with his chin to get at her nipple. His beard just tickled at first, but when he began tugging at her hard pink nip with his teeth she felt it swell, felt herself losing consciousness in the ecstasy. She squeezed her eyes shut and shouted for her husband to fuck her, to fuck her HARDER! To keep fucking her, and finally, to fucking STOP!! Out of breath, she kicked Hashirama’s hands away from her sensitive pussy and nudged his head off her chest, then rolled onto her side, falling asleep immediately.

 

Mito’s soft snoring was adorable. However, Hashi had something he needed to get done as well, so he jostled Mito gently awake. “Honey, can I have a tail?”

Mito didn’t respond verbally, but did manifest a single tail of pure physical kyuubi chakra. It bubbled red and deadly and menacing, crackling with such intense energy that it was overwhelming to touch. Which was exactly why Hashirama wanted it. He was already sopping wet after making his wife come so intensely, so beautifully, so gracelessly… He kicked off his damp shorts and licked his fingers, making sure he was nice and greased up before shoving the dildo into himself, hard. His breath caught in his throat, and he thought he had really outdone himself this time, this was a really perfect fucking dick. But he could only think that thought for a second, because the much more pressing thought of ‘you better touch that chakra tail to your clit this second so help me God or i’m going to scream’ bubbled up from his crotch. He kept driving the dildo into himself and grabbed a fistful of tail, groaning as its energy shook through the flesh and bone of his hand. He tightened around the dildo in anticipation, and then brought the tail down sloppily between his legs, rubbing it in a vague and inconsistent circle trying to hit exactly the right spot while he kept fucking himself, just slower. Moans rattled through him and he curled his toes and thrust open his thick, tan legs, almost fighting against himself to come. Every muscle in his body strained, and he bucked his tight hips against the tail and the dildo, and when it slipped just a tiny bit deeper inside him, he instantly fell to pieces with a heavy groan. He dropped the tail and it disappeared, and so he lay face-up, splayed out like a starfish over the bed, still throbbing on his shapely wooden cock. After a couple pulsations, he decided it was time to take it out, and he winced as it slipped out his tight hole, causing secondary shudders of pleasure through him. He let the dildo roll off his hand and stared at the ceiling while sweat dried off his brow. Finally, he mumbled “Thanks Mmito,” even though she wasn’t awake. Hashirama pulled his pants back up and rolled over onto his side to big-spoon Mito, cringing as the motion rubbed his already-overstimulated naughty bits. He reached around his wife with his hairy, muscular arms, and pulled her close. Felt his heart beating against her back, felt her silk nightgown stick to his sweaty chest. Breathed deeply in the soft crook of her neck. His last thought before he gave himself to sleep was 'she smells like ramen.'


End file.
